Chemistry, John!
by The Baker Street Irregular
Summary: "Let me make sure I understand you properly, Sherlock. You're trying to tell me that there's an elephant in the room, and it's name - is Chemistry?" / Sherlock attempts to confess to John, from the scientific perspective of a madman.


**_Just a note to readers, I have legit OCD, and sometimes randomly capitalize words, mostly nouns. I've tried to catch them all in revision, but I always miss a few. I'm still proofing as I go, but please dont let this disuade you from reading!_**

* * *

"Cortisol, serotonin, adrenaline, dopamine, oxytocin." -SH

"What?" -JW

"Chemistry, John." -SH

"Chemistry?" -JW

"Yes, John, that's what I said. You know how I hate to repeat myself." -SH

"Yes, I understand that, but why tell me? Skull wasn't interesting enough, was it?" -JW

"I don't have chemistry with the skull, John. Obviously." -SH

"Are you working a case? Do you need my help?" -JW

"No. No case. I'm at the flat," -SH

"Right then, and the skull?" -JW

"The skull is in my lap, and I've yet to have a, as Molly and Shakespeare called it, 'spark' with my skull, which according to our previously mentioned experts, is to incite an impassioned monologue concerning the meaning of my existence." -SH "Conclusion is lack of chemistry." -SH

"Was that a Hamlet reference? Since when do you care for Shakespeare?" -JW

"I monologue at your side every opportunity, John" -SH "I think we have underestimated the importance of this." -SH

"Sherlock, you're messaging too fast. I can't give a proper reply!" -JW "Yes, you monologue to me, Sherlock, but I suppose now's a good enough time as any to inform you that you often speak to me when I'm not even in the same room as you"... "You do know that?" -JW

"You being in the same room is irrelevant, monologues are not intended to have an audience." -SH

"What's this about a 'spark' then? And that list of chemicals. Do you need me to pick something up while I'm out? " -JW "I'd rather you say something now." -JW

"No John, You don't need to purchase anything!"..."Must I explain it even further! You are a doctor! This should be so simple for you!"..."Even Anderson, with a fiber of your emotional intelligence could understand!" -SH

John frowned at the small screen. That last remark was a bit unnecessary. Another wave of messages exploded his mobile.

"You already carry the necessary ingredients!" -SH "Oxytocin. A chemical released in the brain dealing with emotional bonding and trust. Serotonin. A producer of calm - the sense of security - lower levels produce obsession and compulsion. Cortisol and adrenaline increase anxiety, rerouting your blood from digestive tissue to muscle tissue creating what is called by the majority of the english speaking population, 'butterflies' in one's stomach." -SH "Dopamine is cocaine, John! The sweet rush of raw concentrated euphoria! Reward pathways barreling feelings of sheer ecstasy through your nervous system!" -SH

If Sherlock was trying to explain himself he was doing a rather poor job of it. The remark on cocaine sent red flags to John.

"Cocaine? What's your point? Sorry Sherlock, I'm not really following. Is everything alright?" -JW

"It's YOU John!" -SH

"I'm sorry, what!?" -JW

John attempted to call Sherlock, who declined his call before the first ring. He was steadily typing a stream of thoughts and could not be bothered to answer something as unimportant as a phone call. He probably hadn't even glanced at the ID. John growled in frustration towards his mobile while new message alerts continuted to fill his screen.

"Do you know why you are so important to this chemistry John?" -SH

"Of course not."-SH

"You are the Spark!" -SH

"Sherlock, I can't text you when you-" -JW

"The spark John! The spark that catalyzes this reaction!" -SH

"Sherlock! I'm almost home, stop texting and wait a bit." -JW

"I'm saying that you are my catalyst John! What is there to be misunderstood!" -SH

John had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Sherlock had sounded as if he were on drugs. Oh God, John hoped that wasn't the case.

Sherlock was rambling nonsensical phrases, but not in the same way in which he normally sauntered about a case. His line of thought was all over the place. Something was different, but somehow John couldn't place it.

John attempted to calm himself. No reason to jump to conclusions. They were communicating through mobile. Texts were bound to create some misinterpretations after all...He felt his grip tighten around the shopping bags. If something had happened to Sherlock, and he had relapsed into using again, he might not be used to his previous dosage levels. But Surely he would know that, Right? He wouldn't overdose. He would adjust his intake level. Statistically, relapsing users didn't, but Sherlock wasn't a statistic. He was far too clever. Wasn't he?

John quickened his pace, eventually breaking into a sprint towards to their flat.

* * *

Sherlock practically ran down the stairs and to the door of 221B to meet John. Hurling it from its hinges in sheer joy, flustered expression, and wide expectant eyes, he exclaimed,

"John!"

Sherlocks eyes fell on John's gaze. Fear. Concern. Anger. Eyes wrapping around Sherlock's figure and beyond in attempt to see through the walls, and into the flat of 221B. John's eyes immediately flicked back to Sherlock. Sherlock's eyes. The bend of Sherlock's arms. Studying. Searching... Sherlock froze as realization flushed over him in embarrassment. The burst of boundless energy from only seconds before now stood completely contained in the wake of John's accusing presence. John lifted the bags to inform Sherlock that he had groceries. He needed to get inside. He needed to check the hiding places for drugs. He needed to make sure Sherlock was clean.

Sherlock read John's deduction, and threw his arms and head towards the gods in a melodrama that even Shakespeare would have acknowledged.

That settles it. Sherlock **definitely, **had recently exposed himself to Shakespeare.

"You think I'm high...because I referenced co- Of course you think I'm high. Perfect. This is absolutely perfect."

"So...You're okay then," John eyes were still fixed on Sherlock's dramatic gesture. "Sherlock?"

"Yes John, I'm fine. I'm Clean if that is what you are asking."

The wave of relief that visibly washed over John was threatening, he momentarily bathed in it with a sigh.

"Oh, Thank God"

Though, drug use or not, Sherlock had indeed been acting strange. John came back to full awareness and turned his attention to Sherlock, whose weight was now supported by his left arm in the doorframe, running hypothetical scenarios behind the veil of his eyes.

Sherlock attempted to pull words from the surrounding test runs filtering across his minds eye, but was unable to do so. John's fear of his return to drug use was alarming to say the least, but it had also completely undermined the previous conversation Sherlock had prepared to have with his flatmate. John could absolutely under no circumstance, declare what Sherlock was about to say as 'out of his proper mind'. That understood, Sherlock had to rather carefully and rationally approach the next topic, for as far as John was concerned, Sherlock's mannerisms, gestures, and vernacular at the moment were far beyond the normalcy that was Sherlock Holmes. Excellent observation doctor, it's not everyday that you properly deduce the giant elephant, as it parades though your living space.

Sherlock finally bolted upright catching the right words. "Do you understand what I was getting at? On the mobiles?"

John jumped at Sherlock's sudden demanding voice. His eyes practically clawed their way onto John, a hint of desperation in their prodding. John Sighed. He couldn't possibly be serious. Now? You need an answer right this moment...doorstep to our flat? He fumbled with the shopping bags nearly dropping them to retrieve his mobile. Mumbling a short apology and a begrudging 'just one moment then' he scrolled through the thread of previous texts. Now that he actually had a moment, and could see that Sherlock was, for the most part safe, he could take a look at what his flatmate had been so eagerly texting him before. After a few moments John again sighed motioning to return his Mobile to his pocket.

"Yeah, ok, Sherlock. I get it. You like me. We're mates, is that all- "

Sherlock childishly grabbed John's shopping bags, setting them on the concrete in a huff, so that he could have John's full unconditional attention. Still in the doorframe he wrapped his hands around John's shoulders as if to shake him to an understanding,

"No John. 'like' is an insult to what we have. 'Like' is as if you are describing us as merely compatible, mutually symbiotic mates." Sherlock spat out the word with a certain level of distaste. Mates wasn't the correct word. It was average. Dull, in every sense of its usage. He was getting worked up again in an attempt to explain himself.

"Sherlock..." a warning tone as John raised an impatient eyebrow. Sherlock had to be quick if he was to do this properly.

"Chemistry, John. Chemistry!" Sherlock released John to spin around the interior of 221B with his arms outstretched in triumphant declaration, "John your chemical makeup is more than mutually symbiotic to mine. It is a spark! An electrostatic attraction between two oppositely charged beings! It's an Ionic bond - with people, John! Chemisty!

"Sherlock, are you trying to say what I think you are-"

"You are a Catalyst!"

Sherlock scooped up John Hands cupping them together. Glee running across his facial features, eyes glistening. John felt a slight blush creep up his neck and into his cheeks, as he acknowledged the sudden closeness of the two. Sherlock's exasperated breaths on John's face had the power to purge his flatmate of all ordered, sensible, military composure that he possessed.

"But you are not Just a catalyst John!, you are my catalyst . Your participation in my life increases the rate of chemical reactions within my body due to our chemistry - your spark John! It's more than compatibility, John, you were made for me! Your existence was designed to push mine to new depths! New brillance! The introduction of the variable that is your spark into my being has ignited my existence into an all consuming inferno!"

Sherlock cried to the world as he let go of John's hands to press his own fingertips together, bringing them to his mouth and closing his eyes in ecstasy he continued, "God yes! John! Beautiful science of alchemy which tempers carbon into diamonds! It's brilliant, fantastic! I am forever changed! My being irrevocably altered! John! Don't you see! You catalyzed the reaction, and I shall never be the same because of you! because of our chemistry!"

John stared at Sherlock, and gaped; a complete loss for words. He placed a hand across his lips, and began pensively running the length of his mouth as he continued to stand, dumbstruck. his other hand on his hip to stabilize his racing thoughts. John studied his shopping bags for a moment, then suddenly pivoted his frame towards Sherlock, raising a pointed finger. Nothing Came. John opened his mouth as if to say something. Closed his mouth deciding against it. Both hands on hips now. Silence. John pulled his trump gesture, and did what he always did when Sherlock had said something completely out of his depth. He simply turned his head upwards and found 221B's architecture and the London sky to be suddenly the most interesting aspects in the entire universe.

Sherlock had never failed to inform John as he did this, that simply looking up would not aid him in seeing what passed over his head ages ago, to which John would reply something along the lines of a nonchalant 'piss off I'm vertically challenged, I'll look where I please, thank you.' Those conversations always resulted in a playful smile from Sherlock, which John knew was reserved soley for him. John waited for Sherlock's predictable que, but Sherlock remained silent. He was waiting for John to grasp it himself, and God, that meant it was severely important. John continued to process. Sherlock began an attempt at another explanation.

"Jo-"

"Nuh-uh"

John held up a hand, commanding silence from his flatmate...friend...romantic interest? Oh God. Did Sherlock Just attempt to confess, in terms of science, his undying affection towards his flatmate through the use of a mobile? And again, on the doorstep to 221B...dramatic much? John's blush deepened as realized that both, Sherlock was right in stating that they had underestimated the importance of their unique relationship, but also at the sudden dawning revelation that an entire world existed outside of the small atmosphere that John had, as always, unknowingly gravitated into. That world seemed to be currently passing by in the form of Baker Street. From the corners of his eyes, he watched strangers turn their heads as they walked by the pair of irregular flatmates. One mumbled something about a domestic with a chuckle. John had half a mind to turn their way with a few choice words, but there were just certain types of people who always assumed Sherlock and John were a couple. Mrs hudson had been one of them, and despite John's constant denial of the matter, she saw what she thought she saw. It was surprising, actually that Mrs. Hudson had yet to arrive on Sherlocks stage. Mrs. Hudson always arrived on que, and now, she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe Sherlock had asked of her beforehand a certain amount of privacy, or sueded her from the building somehow so that he could tell John - wait. Oh dear, God, **What. Just. Happened. **John continued to absently trace the lines of brick, while his brain fervently tried to process if he had heard Sherlock correctly. If what he thought was happening was really, actually happening. And if it was, what he should do then. John squinted a bit harder at the cream colored sky, milk and produce nearly forgotten on the London sidewalk.

After a few solid minutes, which seemed like an eternity to Sherlock, the silence was broken.

At first, John smiled as his chin tilted back down to earth, gaze falling on Sherlock, giving him a once over...Then immediately John was caught in a fit of chuckles, which soon erupted into an over-the-top bout of laughter. When he caught Sherlock's reaction it only made it worse. He clutched his sides gasping for breath.

Sherlock scowled towards John with every bit of London high-class-posh he was capable of collecting into a single stare. John was not taking this with one ounce of seriousness, when it was clearly of the utmost importance. He motioned to flip the collar of his coat upwards to add a level of icy intensity to his glare, only to find that while being caught up in the moment of his confession, he had forgotten that he was still in his pyjamas and robe. His eyes widened in embarrassment. His friend's laughter rose in another spike as he read Sherlock's gestures. "John this isn't." Sherlock's voice was all but drowned out by the sound of the doctor. Sherlock crinkled his nose in a pout and folded his arms, obviously sulking. He was about to storm back into the confines of 221B, and return to being a recluse. John would be lucky if he ever spoke to him, or ate, or ever kept the experiments on his side of the fridge ever aga-

"Wait! Sherlock!" John laughed catching Sherlock's sleeve before he slipped away.

"I'm Sorry...I don't know what came over me." John's laughter calmed down, but he maintained an ear to ear grin, that threatened to break at any given moment, "It's not you...Okay it is you, but it's not what you think. I mean, Sherlock! You could have just come right out and said it. Could have been, 'John, I think there is chemistry between us!' but instead, you go on this...this" John started laughing again "Sherlockian Monolouge!...Oh God, Sorry, this is perfectly ridiculous, I just can't seem to stop laug-"

Sherlock's hands wrapped around John's face, and without warning Sherlock plunged himself into a deep and passionately charged kiss with John. John assumed it was because his laughing fit was making a proper idiot of Sherlock and...

and...

...Oh.

Their bodies magnetically slid closer to one another as John reciprocated Sherlock's movements. Lips pulling apart for a few short breaths, only to gravitate back towards one another. Like a meteor set aflame as it found itself falling, caught in earth's gravity and unable to stop itself as it collided into the tiny, invisible atmosphere, the silent clash of contact between the two irregular flatmates, sent sparks flying. Sherlock's hands roamed the back of John's neck; fingertips brushing against his scalp, and threading through strands of hair, sending an array of small electric currents the length of John's body to his very core. John shuddered. He had ignited Sherlock Holmes, and it was a sight to be seen seen if there ever was one. Sherlock Holmes spiraling into the madness of his scientific infatuation.

After a few moments, John pulled away from Sherlock. Teasing laughter in his words, because he absolutely could not let this one go.

"Let me make sure I understand you properly, Sherlock. You're trying to tell me there's an elephant in the room, and it's name...is Chemistry?"

Finally, Sherlock smiled with that coy curve of his lips. Bravo John, you caught up! A smile complete with the slight dimple in his cheek that John knew was reserved for him alone. Sherlock buried his face in John's neck, taking in his scent, and pressing his ear against John's carotid artery to hear his pulse, of which John had no doubt, was surely racing itself into cardiac arrest by now. Sherlock murmured an answer to John's question as he continued to listen. "Yes and No."

John frowned, "Sherlock, you're not making this easy for me."

"Easy is boring."

Sherlock pulled himself to arms length examining John's features. John imagined he were a specimen splayed across a petri dish beneath the lens of Sherlock's all seing microscope. His heart momentarily sank at the thought. Was this another experiment. Was that all he was right now? Sherlock cupped John's face in his hands peering into the microscopic depths of his soul. Another chill charged it's way down John's spine as Sherlock's electric eyes pierced into his very core. Sherlock's eyes were vulnerable, fearful even, but lit from within at the mere suggestion of the adventure in which he was about to embark with his flatmate. Completely honest, and completely ready to be just that. This was no experiment.

It was chemistry.

Oh.

John had realized long ago his feelings for the detective, but it was in this moment in particular, that the honesty and acceptance that he was, in fact, hopelessly, maddeningly, and irrationally in love with Sherlock Holmes exploded into his existence, and there John was, meteorite deconstructed into pieces in Sherlock's wake. Not that sherlock would understand the reference.

Sherlock caressed his thumbs across John's cheeks bringing their foreheads together in another silent clash. Their lips slightly brushed against one another, condensation of the warm exasperated breaths collecting moisture on skin. Sherlocks eyes, John was absolutely sure, were brilliantly illuminated with the secrets of the universe, and that bloody fantastic man, smiled as he reveled in whispering one into John's being. Forty-two muscles forming small bursts of baritone sound waves reverberating Sherlock's existence.

"Yes, It's Chemistry, John,"

"No, because I'd rather call it Love."

Baritone vibrations resonated softly against John lips, and Sherlock watched the secrets of the universe unfold in the form of John's beautifully catalyzed chemical compounds; molecular swan songs illuminating the meaning of existence.

Sharp intake of breath. John's Neurons firing into blissful oblivion, he absent-mindedley grasps for sherlock's arms to brace himself from the sudden sensation of falling; 'butterflies' rerouting the blood in his system. Sound reception shuts down creating slight ringing sensation. Remaining senses heightened to the point of overstimulation. His dilating pupils attempt to focus on Sherlock's eyes. And there they were, The beautifully honest elements, which confirmed everything.

**Cortisol: **Heightened breathing supplying more oxygen to John's bloodtream - mind responding to overwhelming overstimulated environment. Sodium water accumulating in tear ducts - prolactin response. **Serotonin **levels depleting, expressed through John's now trembling hands. Pressure waves accelerating aortic pulse, surging **adrenaline **through the doctors bloodstream. John's eyes. John's beautiful eyes alight with an ecstatic surge of **dopamine **. Reward pathways of the brain registering immense amounts of pleasure. The corners of John's eyes begin to curve slightly upward. Muscle tension releasing in his entire body. Sherlock enjoyes indulging himself in the resulting heightened sense of touch; a sensation of electricity that travels across John's skin at his touch.

John breaks into a smile. Both a high and a catalyzed reaction, that only their chemistry can create, and therefore Sherlock likes to believe, that particular smile of John's solely his. John's grip tightens as if Sherlock is a lifeline, a single fixed point in the entire universe. Then swiftly, and without hesitation, John closes the space between the two, not needing to verbalize an answer. As the two are caught in a fit of chuckles, laughing into the kiss, Sherlock feels his confirmation. **Oxytocin. **The chemical that would with every waking moment of their experience together, from an an ionic, co-dependent bond between the two. An electrostatic attraction between two oppositely charged beings, which would later diffuse into a perfect equilibrium.

A catalyzing spark.

A universal secret shared between two independent agents, who have been altered - Completely and irrevocably.

Transforming alchemy.

Chemistry.

Or Simply, As Sherlock had so obviously stated.

**Love.**


End file.
